Supposedly Repressed
by AssassinsCreedFAN
Summary: (In 3 parts) Jonathan experiencing childhood flashbacks after an accident in the lab, and old feelings being brought to the light..


_Supposedly Repressed- Part 1_

Hi Again!

Just thought about writing a fic about Jonathan thinking back to his childhood, like having small flashbacks. It's got a few of the lyrics from a song running through it. Just thought it fitted in.

This story is wrote in parts, this being the first.

Just if you're wondering, I did a little extra research for this, like for finding out more about his Grandma and the bullies; to keep closer to the canon story.

Well.. enjoy!

-ACF

**'I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath, scared to rock the boat and make a mess..'**

Jonathan skimmed his eyes over some lines in a book, before feeling his hands start to tremble again; exhaling before leaving his book aside. 'I should have been more careful..' He grumbled mentally to himself, reaching for the shot glass, gulping down his whiskey.

His toxin was most definitely potent, it had even got a reaction from himself.. accidental though.

Jonathan had amplified the toxin's strength as to make it's effects kick in faster, therefore meaning more screams to relish. Unfortunately, upon entering his lab, he had knocked over a vial of his chemical; it's fumes starting to fill the room. Jon was unable to reach for his mask, and suffered severe hallucinations.

"No.. NO! Not her..." Were the words uttered from his lips before a sharp scream tore from Jon's throat, his pale blue pools widening and mouth agape... shuddering violently..goosebumps appearing on his pale translucent skin. All those years ago, his youth flashing before his eyes; having to put up with the orthodox old hag that was his great grandmother. If you could call her that. She was no family to him.. not with the way she treated her great grandson.

"I thought I had repressed such memories.." Jonathan sighed as he leaned back in his chair, starting to recover from his earlier in life trauma being dug up.

Flashback...

The young Jonathan observed cautiously as his great-grandmother swept her bony finger across the top of the Tv, lifting it to check for dust. He gripped the duster in his hands, sweat beginning to form in his lower back, biting his lower lip as anxiety mixed with a cocktail of other negative emotions bubbled in the pit of his stomach...fear dominating all. All of a sudden she turned around to face the boy, narrowing her cold, dead eyes slightly before hobbling to another part of the living room; eying the coffee table. 'She wants to punish me.. all she needs is that one mistake..' Jonathan thought with worry, knowing inevitably that it would be the crows for him; she hated his guts with all of her life.

Her favourite being 'Spawn of Satan', insults thrown at him he meant. Jonathan knew very little of his birth parents, only that he was born out of wedlock; immediately made a sin. Unwanted and abandoned.

Karen Crane, Jon's mother hadn't even bothered to bond with the boy, just left him with Great-grandmother Crane. His father, Gerald Crane had left before his birth.. leaving Karen alone and not aloud to have an abortion because to her religious beliefs.

He truly believed himself to be a mere burden, a pest.

Marion Crane sneered, spinning on him; using her cane for support. "You lazy little brat!"

Jonathan jumped a foot in the air at the sound, staring at her held up finger. "Filthy dust is still present. Lazy bugger, nout' else!"

Jon could see she was implying to look at the appendage, frowning in confusion when seeing nothing.

"But..g-grandmother..-" Slap!

A harsh stringing pain started to envelop his cheek, already turning a searing red.

"You foul worm! I take you into my own home and this is what I receive in return?" She snapped, Jonathan nursing his cheek.

"I-I didn't do it i..intentionally.." He stammered, vision blurring due to the salty tears brimming in his eyes. It probably made him look more pathetic to her.

"Wretched liar! Like that mother of yours.. just a rotten whore." Jon's witch of guardian rasped, to then take hold of his wrist, dragging him out of the room; leading him outside. The rough pulling on the limb felt like his arm would surely pop out of it's socket.

"No... Please! Not the..-"

"You must be punished for your disobedience and idleness... You know the ways I live by!"

He did indeed, and he didn't want to be reminded. "Y-yes, I do.." Jonathan replied submissively.

**'So I sat quietly, agreed politely..'**

The two entered the fragile structure that was the barn. Inside was a stiff rusty plough, one that he had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with before. During the month of May, Jonathan was forced to do the task of planting the corn; then harvesting them in late October. If they grew that is.. when the weather unexpectedly altered for the worse, and the crops drowned in the excess rain water, Jonathan was the reason for their misfortune. Marion often struck him across the back with a belt at this, or a few whacks of quick succession to his hindquarters with the cane she walked around on. Either being just as ferocious, and degrading to his dignity; as many would probably ridicule him at being whipped across the rear. And speaking of ridicule.. the word and the experience was far from unknown to him.

Aside from this tangent, his great grandmother disappeared off to retrieve his 'suit', the one specially worn for his purgatory. The one that smelt to the high heavens of rancid rat blood, sent the source of his torture insane.

"Right, you ungrateful sinner.. put on this, before I kick your scrawny hide." She barked, scanning the rafters for the crows; and by the looks of things, they were already getting agitated.

'Like you could, decrepit hag. You'd probably dislocate your hip." Jon mused, allowing a small smirk to twitch on his lips whilst she had her back turned. He enjoyed these rare moments, glad for the presence of inner monologue.

"Be thankful God is willing to forgive those who sin.." Marion hissed, growing impatient as she waited for him to dress. Jonathan let out a shaky sigh, hands clasped behind his back to await the start of his punishment; nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell of his current garments.

"Plead to god for forgiveness.. though to both you and... your mother. You my boy, were born from wicked sins."

Jonathan could tell by how her face contorted with fury that it took all of her willpower not to start ranting on about his mother (who he did not remember) . And he didn't particularly wish to. Any mother who abandoned her child was clearly an unpleasant and a rather uncaring individual... though Jonathan had once imagined of his mother just not able to look after him; fully regretting her action... she did love him.. with all of the muscle beating in her chest.. A boy could dream couldn't he?

Jon shook his head to rid of the thoughts, kneeling once walking to the centre of the barn; beginning to pray. Marion forced him to learn to pray, and recite several hymn lyrics... he did a lot of things unwillingly.. he hated himself for being so spineless...vulnerable...

"So.. fragile.." A voice in his head rasped, making him briefly stammer in his prayer.

".. F-for I have.. wronged, my lord. And I simply ask for your forgiveness for these wicked sins.. Purge my body.. my soul.." He paused to take in a breath, lip trembling as one of the crows made a single sound, his eyes shutting tightly as he finished off. "...Forgive those sins which I know, and the sins which I know not; forgive them, Oh Lord, forgive them all of thy great goodness.." Jonathan's senses sharpened as adrenaline leaked into his blood stream, the fight or flight instinct kicking in as his guardian's steps were heard from behind him.

Jon's voice held a slight quiver as he spoke the last word, tears welling up in his eyes; mouth reluctant. "...amen."

The chorus of sounds that followed would probably have scared anyone. The flapping of wings and raucous cawing came pretty much simultaneously, Jonathan though had long before squeezed his eyes shut. He knew it would inevitably come, but could only hear the black demons' noises as they swooped in; beaks at first pinching before twisting their heads, effectively starting to trap skin and cause a great deal of pain.

Jonathan heard the barn door close and let out a wail, one of pure desperation.. one of utter distress and pain..

He could feel their inky feathers flutter over his exposed skin, a tear that had run down over his fierce red cheek. He, for a brief moment, glanced at one of them... creatures close up, and swore he could see a bloodthirsty quality in the depths of the eyes. They apparently hated him with a passion.. and so did he.

Some scratched at his face, others going for his arms and back. Jonathan didn't care wherever they decided to bite or scratch.. each wounded him on the outside as well as the inside. How he would recover from this torture he did not know.

'I guess that I forgot I had a choice,

I let you push me past the breaking point. I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything.'

End of flashback..

A shiver went down his spine.. he hated remembering anything like that from his childhood. But thanks to the toxin, they had re-surfaced like a buoy previously held under the water.

The only good thing being he knew the new adapted toxin's impact on the mind, he at least had gained that from the rather humiliating experience.. The Scarecrow didn't do scared, it was his job to do precisely that. Scare people. He made that promise years ago, to turn the tables on people such as the likes of Bo Griggs.

End of Part One..


End file.
